


When Victor Drinks

by OnceAndAlwaysEnglishMajor



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Drunk Victor Nikiforov, M/M, VictUuri, Yuuri Katsuki - Freeform, victor nikiforov - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-24
Updated: 2017-03-22
Packaged: 2018-09-01 21:44:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 16,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8639368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnceAndAlwaysEnglishMajor/pseuds/OnceAndAlwaysEnglishMajor
Summary: Yuuri has never known Victor not to drink. But what he doesn't know is why Victor drinks.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is based off a personal headcannon about why Victor drinks, and how that changes after he meets Yuuri.

            Yuuri had never known Victor not to drink. It just came with the territory. At first, Yuuri just attributed it to Victor’s being Russian. It did go with the stereotypes. But the more Yuuri got to know Victor, the more he interacted with him, the more he noticed the pattern. The Russian man spent most of his evenings at least slightly buzzed, with fairly regular intervals of clothes-falling-off, full on drunk. The older man shifted, and Yuuri was drawn out of his thoughts to readjust Victor’s arm around his shoulders. Tonight had taken the cake. Phichit had eaten it up, but Yuuri wasn’t sure Leo or Guang Hong Ji would ever recover. Victor had thrown his clothes at them…

            “Victor! Hold still!” Yuuri hissed as he wrestled the older man back into his clothes. _Not how I thought the evening would go_ … Yuuri thought. Luckily Leo had distracted Phichit, or Yuuri was sure the pictures he was taking would be ten times worse. Yuuri only hoped his friend would be smart enough to keep the photos of shirtless Victor off the internet, but he didn’t hold out much hope. Which was why he now found himself with a drunk Victor wrapped around his shoulders as he tried to get them both back to the hotel.

            “Yuuurrriii,” Victor purred. “Where are we going?” Yuuri shuddered as Victor’s warm breath ghosted across his ear. This man was going to be the end of him. For sure.

            “We’re going back to the hotel,” Yuuri patiently explained for the twelfth time. “Victor, why did you drink so much tonight?” Yuuri asked, not really expecting an answer.

            “Jus’ wanted to be happy, Yuuri,” Victor slurred. “And you and Phichit were sooo close… Don’t you like me, Yuuri?”

            “Of course I like you, Victor,” Yuuri reassured the older man without thinking. He was too busy trying to put together the puzzle pieces of why Victor had decided to get totally sloshed. So he was completely taken off guard when Victor enthusiastically threw his arms around Yuuri, nearly toppling them both to the ground.

            “Victor! What are you trying to do?”

            “I’m just so glad you actually like me, Yuuri!” Victor said sloppily.

            “Eh?” Yuuri guided Victor into their hotel, breathing a small sigh of relief. All he had to do now was get Victor to the room. The elevator door slid shut, and Victor took that as an invitation to nuzzle Yuuri’s neck affectionately. Yuuri turned bright red, but didn’t protest. Honestly, he liked the affection, he just wished that Victor would actually mean it, that he would remember it in the morning. But Victor was flirty. Had been flirty from the day they met. He couldn’t trust that Victor wasn’t just being… Victor. Not that Yuuri would change him for anything. Even though he knew Victor as a person now, not just his childhood idol, all those quirks that drove him nuts, he wouldn’t change anything. If he did, Victor just wouldn’t be Victor. Such logical thoughts were dangerously hard to hold on to with Victor’s warm face buried in his neck, though.  _Deep breaths, Katsuki,_ Yuuri coached himself. _He’s just drunk, you just need to get him into bed. This isn’t the first time, you can do this._ Yuuri disentangeled himself from Victor enough to lead the older man down the hall to his hotel room.

            “Victor, where is your room key?” Yuuri asked.

            “ ‘s in my pocket,” Victor answered. Yuuri waited a couple beats, then sighed and dug the key out of Victor’s front pocket, trying very hard not to think about the familiarity of the action.

            “Yuuurrrriii, you’re not going to leave me tonight? Are you?” Victor asked as Yuuri struggled with the lock. Grunting, Yuuri muscled the larger man through the door. He wanted to slip away from Victor, put some mind-clearing space between them, but he wasn’t sure Victor would stay upright without support. Gently, he steered Victor to sit down on the edge of the bed.

            “Please, Yuri,” Victor said, “don’t leave me.” Yuuri froze, suddenly sure that there was more to tonight than he realized. He pushed his glasses roughly up his nose, squeezing his eyes shut.

            “I won’t leave.” Victor’s smile lit up the entire room. Yuuri wondered again what exactly he was getting into.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phichit is sneaky, and my favorite

Victor slipped slowly into consciousness, fighting against the hang over from… whatever he ended up doing last night. The details got a little hazy after Yuuri’s former coach showed up. Deciding it would be best not to open his eyes quite yet, Victor snuggled closer to the warm figure in his bed… And froze. Warm figure in his bed…? His eyes snapped open in panic, but he started breathing again when he saw Yuuri’s familiar head resting on the pillow next to him, still deep asleep. How had he gotten here? Victor had started the night with the idea of behaving like a responsible adult around Yuuri’s younger friends, but sometime after Celestino showed up, that idea fell completely apart. _What happened?_ Victor wondered. _I was doing just fine until… until I realized that even here, Yuuri has a support system. And I… have no one._ Victor gritted his teeth, refusing to go there. Today wasn’t about him, wasn’t about his past, it was all about Yuuri. How had he been lucky enough to end up in bed with a shirtless Yuuri Katsuki? Victor wondered. Usually the younger man ran the other direction from his advances. But something about last night had made him decide to share a bed with Victor? Victor cursed his fuzzy memories from the night before, wishing he could remember clearly what had happened. He was fully covered in pajama bottoms and fitted t-shirt, so obviously nothing too interesting. But still something. Victor let a small sigh slip past his lips. He would probably just have to ask Yuuri, and hope the younger man shared what he wanted to know. Victor closed his eyes and snuggled a little closer to Yuuri. He wasn’t going to waste the opportunity right in front of him.

 

            Yuuri woke up and was instantly aware of Victor’s long arms wrapped around him, the other man’s face buried in his neck. Oh, that moments like this actually meant something to Victor, the way they did to Yuuri, no matter how many times he reminded himself it was a bad idea. He wriggled just enough to reach his glasses and cell phone to check the time. With relief, he noted that it wasn’t too late. After getting Victor settled last night, he had completely forgot to set the alarm. But he and Victor both needed to be up shortly, to make it to the rink on time. Reluctantly, Yuuri untangled himself from Victor’s arms. Victor groaned, and tried to pull him closer. _My heart really can’t handle a snuggly Victor…_ Yuuri thought in despair. He needed space and NOW. He abruptly pushed off the bed, safely out of Victor’s reach. Victor blinked owlishly, focusing wide blue on eyes on Yuuri. Then Victor’s eyes swept from his toes to his head, and Yuuri remembered he was only wearing his boxers. It had been easier to just strip down and crawl in bed with the Russian than to go back to his own hotel room to retrieve proper pajamas. Yuuri’s face lit up like a radioactive tomato as Victor continued to stare at him. It no longer seemed like the best of ideas, and he turned away, desperately searching for yesterday’s clothes.   _I should have made a run to my hotel room,_ Yuuri thought disgustedly. _Will I never learn to make the smart choice when it comes to Victor? But… something in his voice, his face… something under the happy drunk… I just couldn’t leave him._ Finding his misplaced clothing, Yuuri turned away from Victor and tugged on his jeans, completely unaware that the other was using the opportunity to check out his butt. Pulling on his shirt, Yuuri turned back around. Victor was still silently watching him. Yuuri began to worry about why he was so quiet.

            “Victor… I need to go back to my own room, shower and get ready… and you should do the same.” Victor cocked his head to the side, a small smirk.

            “You could take a shower here, with me,” Victor offered.

            “Ahh, ah!” Yuuri’s face flushed again, and he backed toward the door, tripping over his own feet in the process. “I will see you in an hour to head to the rink, Victor!” The door slammed, and Victor’s face fell just a bit. _That was probably a bit too far, Nikiforov. Let’s blame it on the left over alcohol in your system and hope Yuuri does too. I’ve been so careful, worked so hard to get him to trust me._ With one last long sigh, Victor reluctantly stepped into the shower to get ready for the day.

 

            Yuuri stared at the screen Phichit was guiltily showing him in horror. _Now everyone will think I was messing around, and not taking this seriously!_ Yuuri thought numbly. Out loud, he said,

            “Phichit, we’ve talked about boundries concerning my personal life and social media, remember?”  His friend just grinned cheekily.

            “But you and Victor make such a cute couple!” the younger skater whispered. Yuuri’s face lit up like a Christmas tree, the exact reaction his friend had been aiming for. “Besides, I know you worry about what Victor feels for you, and I think last night’s experiment proved things quite well!” Phichit said excitedly. Yuuri stared at him blankly.

            “What are you talking about, Phichit?”

            “Are. You. Serious?” Phichit asked. “Dude, I knew you were dense, but this…” he shook his head. “I purposely flirted with you all last night to gauge Victor’s reaction. In case you missed it,” Phichit continued sarcastically, which Yuuri thought was uncalled for, “ his reaction was to get seriously drunk. He’s definitely into you, and that’s a conversation the two of you really need to have.” With that, the younger skater walked calmly away to finish preparing for his routine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... not a lot more about why Victor drinks, just a few little hints, but I'm excited about where this is going! Comments and constructive criticism is appreciated.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set post episode 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is building a little slower than I thought it would, but I'm still really enjoying digging into the characters, so I hope you enjoy it as well! Comments and constructive criticism welcome!

            Victor stared at the notifications from Instagram on his phone. Apparently, Phichit had quite the social media following. The picture dominating his screen was himself, shirtless, draped across a fiercely blushing Yuuri. Apparently last night had been interesting after all. Victor made another mental note to ask Yuuri what exactly had happened. Victor glanced up at an undignified squeak from his skater. His eyes narrowed at the sight of Chris being… extra friendly. Time to intervene. Victor smoothly cut between Yuuri and Chris, giving the other man a glare behind Yuuri’s back. Caught up in the moment, he didn’t catch Phichit nudging Leo and Guang-Houng and smirking. Yuuri did, raising an eyebrow to Phichit in confusion. Victor swept into the middle of the chaos, reminding everyone that they had their short programs to prepare for. The skaters scattered across the locker room, suddenly focused. Victor watched Yuuri, seeing an unfamiliar level of determination in the younger skater.

            “Is he all right?” Chris asked.

            “Shhh,” Victor hushed the other man.

 

            Yuuri’s skating was almost more than Victor could comprehend. Where had this new possessive Yuuri come from? He was so poised, so confident. It honestly blew Victor’s mind a little.

            “Victor?” Yuuri asked in the locker room after the final scores were in, “Phichit wants everyone to go out to supper to celebrate, and, do you want to come?”

            “Of course!” Victor answered enthusiastically.

            “Promise me you’ll behave,” Yuuri asked seriously.

            “When do I not behave?” Victor asked teasingly. Yuuri just stared at him in disbelief.

            “Do I have to show you Phichit’s Instagram?” Yuuri asked. Victor just chuckled.

            “Don’t worry, my little katsudon. I’ll stay out of trouble. Promise.” Yuuri stared at him skeptically.

            “I’m pretty sure Phichit just wants to see if you’re going to strip again. It gave him quite the boost on Instagram. Despite our talks on social media boundaries,” Yuuri grumbles. Victor raised his eyebrows at that last comment, but stored the information away to pursue later. Like tonight with Phichit, when Yuuri wasn’t looking. Surely a former roommate could share some new information.

 

            “He’s keeping himself very well in check tonight,” Yuuri mused, watching as Victor laughed with some of the younger skaters. Yuuri watched him from the corner of his eye, though he was keeping Guang-Houng company, as the Chinese skater was the only one too young to drink.

 

            “Phichit!” Victor said enthusiastically, “Just who I wanted to see!” 

            “Am I in trouble for that picture?” Phichit asked, half joking.

            “No, no,” Victor said waving his second (third?) glass of sake airly. “It’s nothing that hasn’t happened before. No, I, uh wanted to talk to you about Yuuri.”

            Was Phichit imagining it, or did _Victor Nikiforov_ just blush. Barely, but still. Phichit reined in his excited smirk, not wanting to give anything away.

            “What do you want to know?” Phichit asked, even though he had an idea.

            “Oh, well, um,” the skating legend sputtered. “I, uh, wanted to know how well you know Yuuri! Yeah! As his coach, I need to know everything about him.” Victor recovered his normal suave demeanor by the end of the sentence, but Phichit wasn’t buying it. He debated toying with the older man a bit, but, he had proven his point the night before. He’d get a better reaction with bluntness this time around.

            “We weren’t a couple, if that’s what you’re asking,” Phichit said casually. Victor nearly choked on his sake, drawing Yuuri’s attention. They both waved cheerily to him until he returned to his conversation. Phichit continued once Yuuri looked away.

            “Yes, I was totally flirting with his last night, _which he was completely oblivious to,_ but it wasn’t for his benefit. I was trying to gauge someone else’s reaction.” Phichit glanced at Victor sideways, trying to see if the older man got it yet. Victor’s eyes widened in recognition.

            “And what did you discover?” he asked Phichit, maintaining his famous aura of cool.

            “That someone I care about has a very important conversation in the near future, if both _idiots_ involved would just go for it.”

            “Ah,” said Victor, casually taking a sip of his sake, “I wish your friend the very best.”

 

            Victor walked back to the hotel with his arm around Yuuri’s shoulder. He was a little tipsy, but not to the point of actually needing the younger man’s support. But he wanted it. Wanted to feel like someone in this world was really there for him. He leaned his head onto Yuuri’s. Maybe he was a little bit more tipsy than he thought.

            “What did you and Phichit talk about?” Yuuri asked suddenly.

            “You, mostly,” Victor said easily, though he could feel Yuuri tense. “Don’t worry, Yuuri. You have friends who care about you a great deal.” Victor’s voice turned wistful, almost sad, and Yuuri picked up on it.

            “And you don’t?” he asked. “You’re _Victor Nikiforov_.”

            “Exactly,” said Victor, the hurt plainly evident in his voice this time. “I’ve been _Victor Nikiforov_ for so long that I never know if it’s me, or everything that comes with me.” His voice broke just a little at the end. Yuuri, in a stroke of boldness, snaked his arm around Victor’s waist and give it a little squeeze.

            “I know you,” he said softly. “You’ve been living in my house, invading my space, for months now. And yes, you can be arrogant, and self-centered. But also vibrant, and joyful, and kind, and passionate about the small things. And all of that makes you Victor. Not the famous _Victor Nikiforov,_ but just Victor.”

            “What good thing did I do to deserve you in my life, _zolotse_?”

            “Showed up on my doorstep, declared yourself my coach, and refused to leave.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Episode 7 and after. Phichit totally ships it, and a desperately needed a DTR scene after their fight before Yuuri's free skate and that kiss.

            Victor knew as soon as Yuuri open the door that things were not all right. The younger man was completely psyched out. Victor couldn’t understand what had changed between yesterday and today. Whatever switch had been flipped the day before was obviously off today. Victor’s worry continued to grow as he watched Yuuri spiral deeper and deeper into anxiety. Victor told him not to jump during his warm up. Yuuri did anyway, falling spectacularly. The closer to Yuuri’s turn on the ice they got, the worse the anxiety got. Finally, Victor dragged Yuuri down to the parking garage in an attempt for some last minute intervention. He had to get Yuuri focused somehow, but he’d never been a coach before, and his inexperience was telling against him. All he knew was that he _had_ to motivate Yuuri.

            “Yuuri, if you mess up today and miss the podium, I’ll take responsibility and resign as your coach.” Victor didn’t know what he was expecting from that statement, but Yuuri bursting into tears was not it. Neither was the yelling. Victor thought he was lost before, but now he had completely fallen off the map. Then Yuuri calmed down, straightened up, and led the way back to the rink. Victor put a supporting hand on Yuuri’s shoulder as they passed the curious reporters, really the only thing he could think to do. He didn’t speak as Yuuri stepped onto the ice, handing him a tissue to blow his slightly running nose. Yuuri almost dropped the tissue, and Victor dove to catch it, only to freeze when he felt a finger poking the top of his head, followed by a single reassuring pat. Victor stared at Yuuri in shock as the younger skater moved into his starting position.

            The Yuuri who skated wasn’t the saucy version from yesterday, or the wreak from the Nationals the year before. This Yuuri was calm, relaxed on the ice. Victor almost couldn’t believe that this was the same man who sobbed in the parking garage only minutes before. Victor held his breath as Yuuri moved in to his final jump. Yuuri switched his final jump to a quadruple flip, and everything completely froze. Yuuri didn’t land it, but he had enough rotation, and he _spontaneously attempted a quadruple flip for the last jump of his program._ Victor couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, as Yuuri finished his routine. Yuuri skated toward the edge of the rink, and everything in Victor crashed violently back to life. He sprinted to meet Yuuri, not stopping at the edge of the ice, but launching himself at the younger man, pressing his lips to Yuuri’s as they crashed to the ice.

            “It was the only thing I could think of to surprise you more than you surprised me,” Victor murmured. Yuuri didn’t look upset, at least, face flushed from his routine, and probably from that kiss.

 

            “I’m fairly certain your friend Phichit just wants to party all the time, if the last couple nights are any indication,” Victor said teasingly.

            “Well, he certainly deserves it tonight,” Yuuri responded. “And Ciao Ciao can’t say no to anything he asks tonight.” The short walk from their hotel to the restaurant seemed to stretch as neither Victor nor Yuuri quite knew what to do with the other. So much had happened today, without time to process, let alone talk about what happened.

            “What about me?” Victor asked, his voice taking on a throaty purr, “I suppose I’m not allowed to refuse you anything tonight, either, am I?” Yuuri made his familiar panicked face, turned bright red, and almost wiped out on the sidewalk from tripping over his own feet. Victor sighed, catching his skater by the elbow to keep him upright.

            “Do I still make you uncomfortable, Yuuri?” Victor asked, voice suddenly pensive and very vulnerable.

            “Sometimes,” Yuuri admitted, “but, not in a bad way. I’m still constantly surprised by you, Victor. And,” Yuuri gulped, as if the next words were hard to say, “ remember that I… that it takes time for me to adjust. Even when I’m really trying.” He searched Victor’s face, trying to gauge if the other man understood what he was saying. Victor drifted to a stop in front of the restaurant where they were meeting the other skaters. He looked torn.

            “Phichit is one of my best friends, we have to go in,” Yuuri said, reading Victor’s mind. Grabbing Victor’s shoulders, Yuuri spun the older man to face him. Wide, surprised eyes met determined ones.

            “Victor, don’t drink too much tonight. Please. For me. I… I want to talk to you tonight, and… and I want you to remember. Please?” Victor nodded, still surprised at Yuuri’s sudden intensity. Yuuri released him and strode into the restaurant, Victor staring after him, noticing how he shook slightly, as if that act of boldness had taken all the courage he could muster. Victor caught up to Yuuri as the host directed them to the room reserved for their party.

            Phichit latched on to Yuuri as soon as they entered the room.

            “Victor!” he sang, “I’m going to steal Yuuri and drag him to the bathroom so we can talk about you like 12 year old girls!”

            “Phichit!” Yuuri scolded, but it didn’t save him from being abducted by the younger Thai skater as promised. Victor watched them go, a small smile on his lips.

            “Phichit!” Yuuri squawked “What are you doing?”

            “Dragging you off to talk about Victor,” his friend said cheerfully, as if it were the simplest thing in the world. “Though we don’t actually have to go hide in the bathroom. But saying we were going to added a nice dramatic touch.” Yuuri just shook his head.

            “Remind me why we’re friends?”

            “Because I’m persistent,” Phichit said, “and you couldn’t away from me, and you secretly like it that I make your life interesting.”

            “Well, I agree with the first two,” Yuuri grumbled, smiling so Phichit knew he wasn’t serious.

            “Now that you’ve abducted me, and we’re hiding in a corner at _your party_ , what did you want to talk about?”

            “Oh, I completely meant it when I said Victor. What is going on with the two of you? Did you talk to him like I told you to?” Phichit leaned in, eyes gleaming excitedly.

            “Well, no.” Yuuri said. “Then he threatened to quit as my coach right before my routine, and I yelled at him, and, well, you saw what happened _after_ the free skate, and we haven’t had a chance to talk yet.” Yuuri hung his head, allowing himself to feel miserable and confused for just a moment. Phichit just stared at him, mouth slightly open.

            “I should lock the two of you in a closet until you DTR,” he said finally.

            “Huh? D-T-R?”

            “Yuuri, didn’t you pay attention to _anything_ in college? Define The Relationship. You’re my friend, but you and Victor need to stop dancing around whatever it is you’re feeling. It’s just tourturing both of you.” Phichit said with a knowing nod.

            “But I don’t know if Victor is feeling anything!” Yuuri whispered harshly. “He’s flirty and flighty and self-absorbed! I don’t know if he means anything by it!”

            “You’ve come a long way to admit your idol isn’t perfect,” Phichit noted.

            “It’s because he’s not my idol any more,” Yuuri said simply. “He’s my friend.”

            “Now,” Phichit said in a tone that was all business, “If you didn’t trust my little experiment the other night, may I remind you that only hours ago Victor Nikiforov tackle-kissed you in front of all of China? Do you really think he’s not interested?” Yuuri blushed brightly.

            “Go socialize for a while. Then drag that Russian to a private corner and talk. I _really_ don’t want to be forced to lock you in a closet,” Phichit said in a tone that implied he would enjoy it very much, thank you. Yuuri sighed.

            “Fine, fine. I will be social. Now stop ignoring all the people who want to congratulate you on your gold!” Yuuri shooed his friend back into the middle of the action.

 

            Phichit wandered around the room a bit, so that it wasn’t obvious that he was heading for Victor. He loved Yuuri, and Victor was, well _Victor Nikiforov_ , but _honestly!_ he’d never seen two people dance around a topic more. He plopped himself onto a bar stool next to Victor, eying the single drink in front of the Russian. Unusual.

            “You hurt him and I’ll end you,” Phichit told the skating legend with a smile.

            “What?” Victor asked, thoroughly confused.

            “You know what.” The older man’s eyes widened, then softened as he found Yuuri across the room.

            “Yuuri has good friends,” Victor noted.  Taking that as enough acknowledgement, Phihit bounced off, convinced that he had done all he could. The rest was up to them.

 

            The walk to the hotel was silent, heavy with things unspoken. Yuuri fidgeted; Victor was uncharacteristically still. Yuuri followed Victor to his hotel room, pausing in the doorway like he wasn’t sure he could really do this.  Victor held the door open, silently waiting for Yuuri to make his decision. Taking a deep breath, Yuuri stepped into the hotel room. He shuffled his feet, stealing glances at Victor. The other man wasn’t sure what to do either. Yuuri knew he needed to start this. He had a feeling that as dense as he was about relationships, Victor was just as bad off. Call it intuition.

            “Victor,” he said gently, “I have a couple things I want to talk to you about.” Victor sat on the edge of the bed, watching Yuuri with scared eyes. It was one of the most open, honest looks Yuuri had ever seen on Victor.

            “Yuuri, I’m so sorry, sorry, about earlier…” Victor blurted out, voice bordering on panic. Yuuri cut in, taking control of the conversation again.

            “I sure hope you’re not talking about that kiss, because that was the highlight of my day, quite possibly of the month,” he said with a grin. Victor let out a small strangled chuckle. Yuuri wondered how he had gotten past the Russian’s walls, but decided that was a question for later in the conversation. Yuuri settled next to Victor on the edge of the bed.

            “Victor, what are we? I mean other than coach and student. That is true, but it isn’t everything. At least, not to me,” Yuuri said quietly. “And… and after today, certainly, I hope that I’m… that I’m more than that to you, too. I… I want to be more than that to you, Victor.” Yuuri’s hands clenched in his lap, but he kept his eyes on Victor, waiting, knowing the answer may very well wreak him completely, but having to know all the same.

            “You are,” Victor said quietly. “You are more than just a student to me.” He took Yuuri’s hand in his, uncurling the clenched fist so he could lace his fingers with Yuuri’s. He ran his free hand through his hair.

            “I’m not good at this, you know? I can surprise a crowd, I can make a fan’s day, I can walk the fine line of frenemies with the people I skate with. But this? Something… real? I don’t know what to do with this, Yuuri.” Victor sighed letting his head drop forward. Yuuri gave his hand a squeeze.

            “You don’t have to know, _baka._ You just have to be willing to try. I meant what I said earlier. I just need you to stand by me.” Victor started to tremble, just a little.

            “Yuuri… the things I said earlier, before the free skate…” Yuuri covered Victor’s mouth with his free hand.

            “No. You already said you didn’t mean it, and I knew that. We were bound to fight eventually, once I let you down off that pedestal. You were my childhood hero, Victor. But since you became my coach, you’ve become something different, someone real. You’re my friend, and… and I’m hoping something more. I believe you mentioned boyfriend, if the offer is still open?” Yuuri said, a little bit of that sassy confidence he hid somewhere deep inside peeking out. Victor licked the hand that was still over his mouth. With a sound of disgust, Yuuri moved his hand and scrubbed his palm against Victor’s pant leg.

            “What? You can’t very well expect me to ask you to be my boyfriend if your hand is over my mouth,” Victor said, trying to pretend he was being completely sensible. Yuuri stopped rubbing his palm on Victor’s leg, watching the older man with anticipation, so full of hope, yet a tiny bit scared that this wasn’t really happening.

            “Yuuri Katsuki, would you be my boyfriend?” Victor asked. “ I know I’m a lot to deal with, but, if you really want to take that on…” He was shocked silent by a pair of warm, slightly chapped lips pressed against his. Yuuri made the first move. Yuuri was kissing him. Yuuri pulled back, but only a little, foreheads still touching.

            “Yes.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set shortly before episode 8.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're slowly starting to get more of Victor's backstory, and from here on out we get to see how Victor and Yuuri handle things as a couple! (Especially since Victor's current way of dealing with things is just to ignore it...)

Victor didn’t seem at all excited that their next stop would be his home turf, Russia. In fact, Victor didn’t react at all to the idea of going back to the place he had spent most of his life. That complete void of any sort of emotion told Yuuri that something was wrong. Victor was emotional about everything, from butterflies, to walks with Makkachin, to Yuuri’s stuttering attempts at Russian. Yuuri didn’t believe for a second that Victor didn’t feel anything about returning to his home country for the first time in almost a year, since he left to become Yuuri’s coach. Then there was the drinking. Since they started dating, Victor got clothes-falling off drunk far less often. (Partly because Yuuri wouldn’t let him get anywhere when he was drunk. Said it was taking advantage of someone who couldn’t fully understand their choices.) The closer they got to the Rostelecom Cup, though, the more Victor pushed the limits with his nightly drinking.  But Yuuri knew by this time that his best weapon in getting through Victor’s walls was patience. His drinking habits were just another clue for Yuuri to add to his puzzle. Chin resting on his fist, Yuuri didn’t realize that he was staring at Victor across the table until Mari nudged him and muttered,

            “Stop trying to read his mind. Your focus is giving me a headache. Also, maybe you can get him to leave the table before he gets too far into that sake. I never need to see you trying to herd your drunk, naked boyfriend/coach back into his room at 3 am ever again.”  

            “Sorry,” Yuuri murmured, flushing red. That had been a rough night, and he still had no idea what had set Victor off. Mari shrugged.

            “Hey, he’s not my problem,” she said with a smile.  Lowering her voice a little more, even though no one was paying attention to them, she said,

            “Take care of him, ok Yuuri? I think he’s more breakable than he looks.” Yuuri nodded.

            “I know he is.” Standing up, he moved to the other side of the table and tapped Victor on the shoulder. “Ready to do some more packing for Russia?” he asked.

            “Sure!” said Victor in a voice that was just a touch too cheerful. He moved to grab the sake bottle, but Yuuri intercepted his hand, twining his fingers with Victor’s. The Russian gave him a sad little smile.

            “Always looking out for me, eh, Yuuri?” Yuuri didn’t exactly answer, just tugged Victor down the hall.

            Victor stared absently at his closet, trying to decide which dress shirts to pack. Stepping up behind him, Yuuri wrapped his arms around Victor’s waist and pressed his cheek to the slightly taller man’s back. He didn’t say anything, just willed Victor to feel all the strength and support Yuuri had in him through the simple embrace.  Wriggling around to face the smaller man, Victor wrapped his arms around Yuuri.

            “What’s on your mind, _dorogoy_?’

            “You, as always,” Yuuri muttered against Victor’s chest. “Will you… will you _talk_ to me? I know you’re hurting, and it kills me to not know why. Not that I want to push you. Never that.  And I know I can’t _fix_ whatever it is, Victor, but I could, I could help you carry it!” Yuuri blurted, sincere brown eyes blazing. Victor stared at the younger man in wonder.

            “Sometimes I think you know me better than I know myself, Yuuri. Going back to Russia has me… confused, I guess. Practically my whole life was spent there, yet, I have no desire to go back, nothing tying me there, except maybe Yakov. And he hasn’t completely forgiven me for leaving yet!” Victor chuckled.

            “What about family?” Yuuri asked with those wide innocent eyes. Victor hesitated.

            “Family is… complicated. My mother still lives in Russia, and I think I have several step siblings running around, but, I haven’t heard from her in years. She was never very supportive of my skating,” Victor confessed, looking vaguely over Yuuri’s shoulder. Yuuri squeezed his waist.

            “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, Victor. If you’re not ready.”

            “I do want to tell you,” Victor said. “It’s just been years since I actually thought about any of it. It was easier to push it down, pretend it didn’t matter.” Victor shook his head. “So, going back to Russia, with you, is complicated. Because I want to show you so many things, want you to see the places I loved, but that also means facing a past I’ve spent years running from. Without admitting that I was running. I don’t know if I ever would have stopped, if I hadn’t met you. You make me not want to run anymore,” Victor said, a slight flush covering his cheeks. Yuuri just squeezed him tight, letting his actions say what words couldn’t. Pulling back just a little, he looked at Victor, a mischievous spark in his eyes.

            “Hey Victor, can I sleep with you tonight?” Yuuri asked, using the very question Victor had pestered him with for months. Victor smiled slowly, realizing that even his shadowy past wasn’t going to scare off the determined Japanese skater. He tapped a finger against his lips, as if he really had to think about it.

            “Well, I suppose...” he said slowly, only to be knocked off balance by a kiss from an excited Yuuri. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Covers episodes 8 and 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ty ponyatiya ne imeyesh' means "you have no idea"

     “Victor, you have to go back to Japan!” Yuuri’s passionate, he’s determined, and Victor isn’t quite sure what to do. That he could lose Makkachin… it doesn’t bear thinking about. But how can he leave Yuuri to do the free skate on his own? When he’s seen for himself how bad Yuuri’s anxiety can be, what it does to him. And Yuuri’s far from home here, without his support system. Just Victor. Yet here he is, telling Victor to fly back to Japan _this second_ in a tone that brooks no argument. Victor’s seen glimpses of this Yuuri, on and off the ice (mostly on) but this is the first time he’s seen Yuuri quite this determined. But still he hesitates. Can he really leave Yuuri to go through this alone? Victor spots Yakov and Yuri just past his determined skater.

            “Yakov! You’re the only coach for me!” Victor said, slipping past Yuuri to latch on to Yakov.

            “Are you begging to come back?” Yakov asked, his tone saying he didn’t believe that for a second.

            “Be Yuuri’s coach! Just for a day. I… I have to go back to Japan…” Victor trailed off. Yuuri slipped up beside him.

            “It’s Makkachin,” he explained. “He ate something he shouldn’t… and they’re not sure if he’s going to make it,” the Japanese man said softly. Yakov’s face softened just a little. He knew how much that damn dog meant to Victor.

            “Fine. I’ll be there anyway, with Yuri, so it won’t put me out any,” Yakov said gruffly. Victor threw his arms around Yakov in a hug.

           “Thank you!” Spinning around, he grabbed Yuuri by the wrist.

           “Come help me pack?” he asked. Yuuri bobbed his head.

           “Well, _that_ certainly makes things more interesting,” Yuri grumbled. “I’m still going to crush him, though.”

 

Victor fluttered around the room in agitation, and Yuuri did most of the actual packing. Sighing in exasperation, Yuuri put his hands on Victor’s shoulders, forcing the slightly taller man to sit on the edge of the bed. Yuuri knelt in front of him, taking both of Victor’s hands in his own.

     “I promise you, whatever happens tomorrow, I will be ok. This is the right thing for you to do, and I will not have you beating yourself up because of me. Ok?” He desperately searched Victor’s face, hoping that his coach would believe him. Victor wanted to, but he was still torn. Letting go of Victor’s hands, Yuuri paced the room.

     “I’ve come so far since I met you, Victor. Your… love has shown me more than I ever thought possible. And that’s why you have to go, and why I’ll be ok. Because I love you enough to send you away right now, because you will regret it forever if you don’t go. I did. I do. But I don’t want that for you. I can be strong, Victor. For you.” Tears glistened in Yuuri’s eyes as he finished speaking. Victor stared at him, then patted the bed beside him wordlessly. Yuuri sank onto the bed, wrapping is arms around Victor’s waist in a tight embrace. Victor slipped his arms around Yuuri’s shoulders, and for a while they just sat there, holding each other.

      “Ok, Yuuri,” Victor finally whispered. “I can be strong for you too.”

 

_I can’t quite believe I actually made it,_ Yuuri mused as he made his way through the airport. _It definitely wasn’t my best performance, but I still made it. I still have a chance. I can work harder, be better…_ Lost in his own thoughts, it took him a moment to loom up, to notice Makkachin, to realize that if Makkachin was here… _so was Victor._ Yuuri’s feet made the decision to start running before his mind could catch up. Victor was keeping pace with him, their eyes locked. The doors opened, and Yuuri practically threw himself into Victor’s arms, clinging tightly to the other man. Victor held him just as tight.

     “Yuuri,” Victor murmured into the slightly shorter man’s shoulder, “I’ve been thinking about what I can do as your coach from now on…”

     “Me too,” Yuuri whispered. He pushed Victor back, so he could look him in the eyes. “Please be my coach until I retire!” There was the fierce, determined, bold Yuuri that Victor loved so well. He smiled softly, catching Yuuri’s hand and pressing a kiss to his palm.

      “That’s almost like a marriage proposal,” he teased. Yuuri blushed brightly, but smiled. So he wasn’t opposed to the idea, Victor noted as Yuuri pulled him in tight again.

     “I wish you’d never retire,” Victor murmured quietly. He couldn’t see the tears that sprang to Yuuri’s eyes as the skater clung to him. Yuuri had his emotions in check by the time he released Victor. He knelt down to pet Makkachin.

     “You had me worried, boy,” he said as he ruffled the poodle’s ears. Makkachin panted happily, completely unphased by his recent traumatic experience.

     “Let’s go home,” Victor said, grabbing the handle of Yuuri’s forgotten suitcase. Yuuri hummed happily, as much from Victor referring to Yu-topia as home as actually being back in Japan.

     “Victor,” he asked, suddenly shy, “Are you happy here?”

     “Ty ponyatiya ne imeyesh',” Victor muttered in Russian, before switching to something Yuuri could understand. “Very happy, Yuuri, why do you ask?”              

     “Because you packed up your life and moved half way around the world before, and…” Victor placed a hand over Yuuri’s mouth.              

     “That’s because I had a reason to go, and now I have a reason to stay.” Yuuri blushed again, but Victor could feel the dark-haired man’s pleased smile under his hand.            

     “I’m sure your mother’s making katsudon, and you best enjoy it, tomorrow we train for the ow it was Victor’s turn to blush. Yuuri’s boldness still surprised him, he was so used to the quiet awkwardness that mostly defined Yuuri. Yuuri tugged on his wrist, bringing Victor out of his thoughts.              

     “Come on, you know you want to eat mom’s katsudon as much as I do!”              

     “That’s not the only thing I want to eat up,” Victor muttered a Yuuri pulled him along. Victor had the strong feeling that his boyfriend was choosing not to respond to that comment...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry not a lot happens here, this is going somewhere, I promise! Though the direction might shift a bit after seeing episode 10! I don't think I can NOT include drunk!Yuuri somewhere...


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Episode 10, after that beautiful bombshell. Enjoy it!

Yuuri’s face still burned as he and Victor walked back to the hotel. Victor was slightly drunk, and he hummed happily, fingers threaded through Yuuri’s.

            “Victor?” Yuuri asked, “Tell me about last year’s Grand Prix banquet? I… I mean I saw all the pictures… and videos… at dinner, but, what happened?” Victor bounced happily on the balls of his feet.

            “You were the life of the party! I mean, you drank a _lot_ of champagne fisrt, but then you challenged Yurio to a dance off, and Chris broke out his stripper pole, where did you learn how to pole dance, Yuuri? We should include that in your regular training,” Victor mused as Yuuri blushed even harder. “And you and I danced the night away. Then, at the very end, you asked me to be your coach in a _very_ provocative manner. I can’t believe you don’t remember!” Victor paused to open the door to their hotel room. “Though I guess I shouldn’t be that surprised, considering how much you drank… Is that why you don’t drink?”

            “Victor, you know that I do drink. I just set a limit, because yes, I know what happens when I have too much. I’m just like my dad in that respect.”

            “I never have too much!” Victor declared. Yuuri looked at his skeptically.

            “You drink until taking off all your clothes seems like a good idea!” he countered.

            “Only around you,” Victor said candidly, watching Yuuri turn that shade of red he particularly liked.

            “Victor!” Yuuri hissed in mortification. The Russian just shrugged.

            “It’s true, though. I want to catch your attention like you caught mine at the banquet last year.” Yuuri’s eyes were huge and round.

            “ _That’s_ why you were always flirting with me? You really did like me? This whole time?”  Victor shook his head at the younger man’s amazement.

            “Of course! How much of a tramp do you think I am, Yuuri Katsuki?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “You were so alive! Yes, you were drunk, which lowers inhibitions like crazy. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t a little drunk as well. But I’m always a little drunk, it lets me put on the show I need to, to be happy and carefree, to pretend my life is perfect. I am a skating god, Yuuri, and everyone expects it to be prefect, for my life to be full of meaning. But it’s not. It’s empty and cold and I might as well be dead for how much I was actually living, Yuuri.” Victor leaned against the headboard, pulling Yuuri into his lap, then wriggling around until he had the smaller man tucked comfortably under his chin, Yuuri’s warm back pressed against his chest.

            “Then I met you, and I saw something different. I saw how much you _felt_ your loss last year. But then, then I saw you skate my program, perfectly. With an innocence it needed, but that I could never manage. I will confess that I expected you to remember me… but that makes it even more amazing, really. You took me, no questions asked. You didn’t just give me a place to stay, you made me part of the family. Yuuri, I’ve never had family like that. Your parents, Mari, they care about me just because I exist. I haven’t felt so alive, so loved, in at least twenty years, Yuuri. You showed me life again.” Victor held out his hand, admiring the gold band that glinted there.

            “That’s why I said what I did, about hoping you never retire. I want to live, Yuuri. And I want to do it with you, my katsudon.” Yuuri snuggled closer and hummed contentedly.

            “I’ll win for you, Victor. For your love,” he murmured sleepily. Victor shifted so they were both lying down, and held Yuuri close to his heart as they both drifted to sleep.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Episode 11, starting with that end credit scene... sorry for the angst. On the bright side, have some Chris being a great friend!

           “By the way, Yuuri…What did you want to talk about?” Victor asked with a slight smile as he toweled off his silver hair. Yuuri’s hands trembled, so he fisted them on his thighs.

            “After the final, let’s end this,” he said, proud that he managed to say it without his voice trembling.  Victor’s face fell, and Yuuri told himself the feeling in his chest wasn’t his heart breaking. The walls went up in Victor’s eyes went up, and he stood up slowly.

            “I…I think I need to talk a walk,” Victor said, roughly pulling on his clothes. “We’ll talk about this later, ok Yuuri?” Victor practically ran out their hotel room. As the door slammed shut, Yuuri buried his face in his hands.

 

            The 1:00 AM knock on his door was not what Chris was expecting. Neither was the drunk yelling in Russian, which told him it was Victor at his door. _This can’t be good,_ Chris thought. _He should still be over the moon about his engagement to Yuuri._ Chris ran a rough hand through his hair, throwing open the door. Victor was crumpled into a little heap against the door frame. Chris’ eyes widened  behind his round glasses. _The hell happened? How could Victor let himself get into such a state, when he has to coach tomorrow?_ Chris knelt down pulling his friend to his feet and half-dragging the smashed Russian into his hotel room. Propping Victor up in the chair, Chris settled himself cross-legged on the end of the bed. Victor’s face was a complete mess, his eyes were red, his face flushed, and his silver hair sticking out at all angles. Chris couldn’t tell how much of Victor’s appearance was from the alcohol, which he had obviously been drinking heavily, and how much was from crying. Tears continued making wet trails down Victor’s cheeks. Chris couldn’t remember ever seeing Victor such a mess. The older man just stared at him with wide broken eyes. Sighing, Chris patted the bed beside him. Victor scrambled over, pressing himself to Chris’ side, resting his head on the younger skaters shoulder, still crying. Chris threw an arm around Victor’s shoulders, gently patting him on the back.

            “Tell me what happened, Vitya.” The Russian scrubbed at his eyes with the back of his hand.

            “Yuuri said…end this… panicked…can’t go back, Chris, can’t. Yuuri, best thing that’s ever happened to me,” Victor choked out. Chris just kept rubbing Victor’s back. He wanted to say something reassuring, to tell Victor that it would be ok, but he didn’t know that it would be. So he just let Victor cry, gently rubbing his friend’s back. As Victor’s sobs tapered off, Chris nudged him into the empty second bed.

            “Stay here tonight, Victor. We’ll figure things out in the morning.” Chris tucked Victor in, noting that Victor was almost asleep already from the combination of exhaustion and alcohol. Turing away, Chris retrieved his phone from the night stand. He had some very important text messages to send. Chris pushed his glasses back up his nose. Why did Yuuri and Victor have to choose the middle of the Grand Prix to break down like this?


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More post episode 11 angst, featuring Phichit and Yuuri this time.

Phichit seriously considered ignoring the buzzing of his phone. But the very fact that someone was texting him at almost two in the morning won out.

            “This better be important,” Phichit grumbled, squinting at the brightness from his phone. “Why is Chris texting me? He never texts me. We’re mostly just Insta friends…” After Phichit himself, Chris was the most active skater on social media, so they signal boosted each other on a fairly regular basis. But texting was… highly unusual.

            _You need to check on Yuuri. I have a drunk, inconsolable Victor asleep in my room, and I’m not close enough to Yuuri to check on him._

“Shit shit shit shit,” Phichit chanted only stopping to grab his hotel key. Good thing all the Grand Prix competitors were staying in the same hotel.

            “Yuuri!” Phichit yelled, pounding on the door. “Let me in, Yuuri! I’m not going away!” The man who opened the door could only be described as a _hot mess._

“Oh, Yuuri,” Phichit breathed, pushing past him into the hotel room. “What happened?” Yuuri just stared at him blankly.

            “Why are you here, Phichit? And why aren’t you wearing a shirt?” Yuuri’s eyes were blank and glassy. Phichit growled. This was bad, really bad.

            “I’m here because Chris texted me. Christophe freaking Giacometti texted me at two in the morning, because he was worried about you, Yuuri. Why was he worried? Because _your fiancé_ is currently passed out in his hotel room.” Yuuri just sat on his bed, watching Phichit with glassy eyes.  _Fuck._ Phichit thought. _He is deep in his own head tonight. Yuuri, buddy, what did you do?_ Settling across from Yuuri on Victor’s bed, Phichit just watched his friend for a couple minutes. Yuuri’s hands moved restlessly in his lap, and Phichit knew the signs of a mental freak out. He’s seen them when he and Yuuri shared a dorm in Detroit, but, this is a particularly bad one.

            “Yuuri, I’m going to sit next to you now,” Phichit said calmly. Yuuri nodded in acknowledgement, but still didn’t say anything. “Can I hug you?” Phichit asked. Yuuri nodded again. Phichit wrapped his arms around Yuuri, squeezing him tight. The pressue would help him calm down.

            “You know you’re not alone, right Yuuri?” Phichit whispered. Yuuri shuddered in his arms.

            “Hey, hey,” Phichit soothed. “Let’s talk about it, ok? Can you tell me what happened with Victor? It obviously messed you both up pretty badly…”

            “I told him that I want to end this after the Grand Prix,” Yuuri muttered. Phichit breathed slowly in, then out through his nose, resisting the urge to face palm.

            “What happened then, Yuuri?”  Yuuri shrugged.

            “He… he said we’d talk about it later, and ran out of the room. I knew I was holding him back. I had to let him go, Phichit. I… love him too much to hold him back. I can’t keep him tied to a loser like me. You didn’t see him today. He doesn’t want to stay with me, I’m too much of a disappointment.”

            “Did Victor say that?” Phichit asked.

            “He didn’t have to,” Yuuri responded without pause.

            “Yuuri, remember that Victor was the one who said your rings were engagement rings?”

            “He also said we’d get married when I won gold!” Yuuri broke in. “If I don’t win, he’s not going to want to stay! I had to let go, before he pushed me away! This… this I can live through.”

            “Yuuri,” Phichit said, doing his best to stay strong, knowing that his friend couldn’t control his self-destructive actions. “You have to give Victor a chance. I know you’re afraid that he’s going to leave you. But, Yuuri, man, you have to give him the chance to stay.” Phichit punctuated his statement with a firm nod. “Not to mention the fact that Victor practically worships the ice you skate on. You should see his Insta account. Most of it’s you, Yuuri.” Phichit pulled out his phone to show Yuuri Victor’s Instagram. Yuuri gradually calmed down under Phichit’s prodding.

            “Now, I’m going to stay here tonight, ok, Yuuri?” Yuuri nodded. Once he had Yuuri settled in bed, Phichit texted Chris.

            **_Phichit:_** _He was an absolute disaster, but I think I got him calmed down. Can you get Victor to the hotel buffet in the morning? I’ll bring Yuuri._

_**Chris:** Sure, but do you think it will help?_

_**Phichit:** I think it’s all we can do. That and hope that our idiot friends can work it out themselves. _


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post episode 11, pre episode 12. Still cannon compliant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, it's taken me forever to update, sorry about that! This project got shoved on the back burner over the holidays, and it took me a while to find the thread of it again. If you've stuck with me, thank you so much!

Phichit woke up early and slipped back to his own hotel room to get dressed. Surprisingly, he didn’t feel tired. But today was _it,_ Phichit thought, the high point in his career so far. No matter what happened today during free skate, Phichit had reached new heights. He wasn’t worried about the free skate. Whatever happened, Phichit had confidence that he could make it to the Grand Prix again. Yuuri, now, Yuuri he was worried about. And not just his skating. Phichit instinctively knew that this was a paradigm shift day for his friend, that whatever happened now would affect the rest of his life. Yuuri was still curled up in a little ball in the middle if the bed when Phichit let himself back into the hotel room. He shook his head at his sleeping friend. Stepping closer, Phichit shook Yuuri by the shoulder.

            “Hey, sleeping beauty, time to get up. You have a breakfast date.”

            “What?” Yuuri asked blearily. Phichit rummaged in Yuuri’s suitcase, throwing clothes at the older skater. Yuuri groaned.

            “I feel awful, Phichit. What do you mean I have a breakfast date?” Yuuri asked.

            “Don’t ask questions, just get dressed,” Phichit instructed. Yuuri sighed, but did as his friend asked. There was no arguing with Phichit when he got like this. Yuuri let himself be poked and prodded into his clothes and down to the hotel breakfast buffet. Phichit scanned area, obviously searching for something, though Yuuri couldn’t fathom what.

            “Chris!” Phichit called, waving excitedly as he dragged Yuuri after him. Yuuri frowned in confusion. His breakfast date was Christophe?

            “He’s over there, in the booth,” Christophe said, nodding over his shoulder. Phichit shoved Yuuri forward. Stumbling, Yuuri caught sight of Victor slumped in the booth. He looks about how I feel, Yuuri noted. He slid into the booth, knowing what was expected of him, but still unable to meet Victor’s eyes. Phichit and Chris stood in front of them with crossed arms and identical expressions.

            “Now, we know that the two of you would get around to this conversation eventually,” Phichit said, “but neither of you are very good at this ‘relationship’ thing,” Chris nodded his agreement, “and you both need to be present for the rest of the Grand Prix. So, deal with this. We’ll see you at the rink,” Phichit finished, and he and Chris walked off. Yuuri snuck a look at Victor from underneath his eyelashes. The other man’s eyes flickered to him, then down again, then back to Yuuri. Taking a deep breath to gather all the courage he had, Yuuri looked up and met Victor’s eyes. The pain and fear he saw there broke whatever little bit of his heart was still intact. Reaching out, he brushed Victor’s bangs out of his face. Victor froze at his touch, and Yuuri could feel him trembling just a little under his fingers.

            “Why, Yuuri? I thought… I thought you loved me…” Victor twisted his ring nervously around his finger. Yuuri was irrationally glad that Victor was still wearing the ring, but he _had_ to do something to fix this.

            “Victor, I…”

            “Do you really want to leave me, Yuuri?” Victor swiped at the tears that leaked from his eyes.

            “No!” Yuuri shouted, before remembering they were very much in public. “Never,” he said forcefully, in a much quieter voice. “I never want to be without you, Victor. But, I’m killing you as a skater. You’re not _done,_ Victor, and I didn’t want you resent me, to leave me, because, I might be able to survive letting you go, but, I… I don’t know that I could continue if you left me.”  
            “And how do you think I feel, Yuuri? When you said you wanted to end this, my world crumbled!” There was barely controlled anger in Victor’s voice. “I haven’t had anything in my life but skating since I was six years old! And then you drunkenly stumble into my life, and I spend months thinking about you like an idiot, and I uproot my entire life for you, for reasons I couldn’t explain if you asked me to, and Yuuri, it was the best choice I’ve ever made! You were… unexpected. Your family took me in, and I was part of a family! Do you know how long it’s been since anyone considered me family? You were the first person to just want me to be _me_. Being with you is about so much more than just skating, and it’s the first thing in my life that is!” Victor broke off, crying too hard to continue. Not stopping to think (for once) Yuuri slid out of the booth, skootching in close to Victor so he could wrap his arms around the older skater. Victor buried his face in Yuuri’s chest. Yuuri held him like the world would end if he let go. (It really might.) He stroked Victor’s silver hair soothingly.

            “Oh Vitya, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry,” Yuuri murmured. Victor slid his arms around Yuuri’s waist, and Yuuri took that as a good sign. “We… we really need to learn how to talk about these things, don’t we? Phichit and Chris are right.”

            “We can’t ever tell them that,” Victor mumbled into Yuuri’s shirt. “Can you imagine how insufferable they’d be? I feel like Phichit and Chris may be a dangerous combination.”

            “And we released that on the world!” Yuuri chuckled, breaking the heavy atmosphere just a bit. Victor pushed himself up so he could look Yuuri in the eyes.

            “I do need to know why, Yuuri. Why you said we should end things after the Grand Prix. I don’t think I understand.” Yuuri sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

            “I don’t fully understand why I said it like that, either. I think I wanted to have this conversation, but I didn’t know how. I’m scared, Vitya. You’re _Victor Nikiforov_ and so far out of my league, and I have no idea what you see in me most of the time, and I feel like I’m ruining your career, and I really, really couldn’t stand it if you hated me for that, or if you decided you didn’t want me anymore, and you did say this was only until I won a gold at the Grand Prix…” Yuuri didn’t realize he was anxiously twisting his hands together until Victor caught them in his own, playing with Yuuri’s ring.

            “Did you really believe my teasing about only getting married if you win gold?” Victor asked.

            “No…” Yuuri said, a little too slowly. “The… the anxiety just gets the better of me sometimes.” He dropped his eyes to the table. Victor grabbed his chin, gently forcing Yuuri to look at him.

            “Yuuri, the skater, was intriguing enough for me to want to coach. And Yuuri, the person, is so much more than I could ever have imagined,” Victor told him earnestly. “That’s who I want to spend the rest of my life with.”

            “I was going to retire,” Yuuri blurted. “I wanted you to go back to skating, and I was going to retire, because I… I’m not good enough for this.” Victor’s eyes flashed with what could have been anger.

            “Are you going to tell me that you’re a better judge of your talents than the _Victor Nikiforov_?” Yuuri tried to duck his head, but Victor wouldn’t let him. Instead he pressed his forehead to Yuuri’s.

            “Love, I just wish you could see yourself how everyone else does. But I suppose that’s why I’m here, to tell you what you can’t see clearly. And Yuuri, I don’t know if I want to return to skating. It was my whole life, but I was never _happy_ until I met you.”

            “You sound like a Hallmark movie,” Yuuri interrupted.

            “Shush,” Victor said. “I can’t go back to living a life where I don’t feel anything, where every move is calculated, where I’m only a mask, presenting the face the world wants to see. I didn’t love skating anymore. Hadn’t for years. Until I came to Hasetsu to coach you. Your passion reawakened mine. I said I needed a season off to figure out where I was going, and I don’t know if I’ve figured it out yet. Can, can we talk about those decisions after the final?” Yuuri nodded in agreement.

            “So, where are we now?” Yuuri asked cautiously.

            “Well, we’ve established that no one is leaving, yes?” Yuuri nodded in agreement. 

            “And we need to talk about our skating futures, but preferably after the Grand Prix,” Yuuri contributed, and it was Victor’s turn to nod.

            “And, no more running?” Yuuri asked. “We would have been in bad shape without Phichit and Chris.”

            “We were in bad shape _with_ Phichit and Chris. Without them would have been catastrophic,” Victor said frankly. “I’ve never done this… serious relationship thing.”

            “Hm, I’m finally on the same level as Victor Nikiforov!” Yuuri teased. “It’s ok, you know. To not be good at this,” he continued with a flash of intuition. “We can figure it out together, right, Vitya?”

            “I’d like that. Together.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post episode 12, cannon-compliant as far as that, after this, all bets are off!

            Yuuri wasn’t fully conscious of when he made the decision. You would think something so life-altering would require full awareness to decide, but Yuuri couldn’t pinpoint when he changed his mind. When he decided that he wanted to keep skating. Maybe Victor’s reassurances that he wouldn’t resent Yuuri, or the Russian’s promise to consider returning to skating played a part in the choice. But by the time Yuuri finished his free skate he knew: this would not be his last season.

            “You know, Yuuri,” Victor whispered at the kiss and cry, “having you beat my record is the ultimate compliment as your coach… but the ultimate diss as a competitor.” Yuuri gasped.

            “Does that mean you’re going to compete again?” Yuuri asked breathlessly. Victor just gave him a soft smile, and Yuuri threw his arms around Victor.

***

Yuuri stood on the podium, silver medal displayed for the media. Cameras flashed and Yuuri smiled, though he wasn’t really registering any of this. Once the press finished, Yuuri skated to the sidelines, where Victor was waiting for him.

            “I’m such a failure as a coach,” Victor told him teasingly. “Yuuri, do you have any suggestions?” he purred, stepping into Yuuri’s space. “Something that would excite me?” Yuuri gulped, resting one hand on the barrier behind him for support.

            “What did you think about just now?” Victor whispered. Yuuri lunged forward, wrapping his arms around Victor’s shoulders as they both tumbled to the ground.

            “Please stay with me in competitive figure skating for one more year! This time I’ll win gold for sure!” he told Victor forcefully.

            “What?” Victor cried. Yuuri paused, caught off guard by the absolutely gleeful look on Victor’s face.

            “But keep going!” Victor urged. “If I’m also staying on as your coach, even _I’m_ worried about making a full comeback. In exchange, I’ll need you to become a five-time world champion, at least.”

            “Okay,” Yuuri agreed, almost crying, “okay.”

***

            “I told Yakov I’d be competing in the Russian Nationals,” Victor said casually as he and Yuuri got ready for the banquet. Yuuri froze, his eyes bugging as he turned to stare at his fiancé.

            “The Russian Nationals? Victor, that’s just over a week from now! How, how, how…” Yuuri spluttered, unable to accurately put into words everything that would be necessary for Victor to return to skating in NINE DAYS. Yuuri takes a deep breath.

            “Okay. What about a routine? What about costumes? We’ll need to get your ticket switched to St. Petersburg instead of Japan… What details have you discussed with Yakov? I’ll need you write down your coaching plans so I can keep training, my next competition is in 11 days…” Yuuri muttered, mind racing with all the details they would need to sort out. Yuuri took deep breaths, reminding himself that breathing was necessary, hoping it would be enough to keep the anxiety he could already feel starting in his chest under control.

            “Yuuri!” Victor said, sounding properly concerned for the first time in the conversation. “Slow down.” He stepped closer to Yuuri, running his hands comfortingly from Yuuri’s shoulders to his elbows and back.

            “I know there’s a lot we need to figure out in a short period of time, but we can do this, Yuuri. Let’s talk through your concerns. First, and most importantly, I’m not going to leave you. Not as your coach, and definitely not as your fiancé. We will need to talk to Yakov tonight, but, how would you feel about coming to St. Petersburg? We’ll still need to work out a long-term plan, but, that would put us in a place where I can train with Yakov and you can train with me.” Victor paused to give Yuuri a chance to respond. His hands never stopped moving on the younger man’s arms. Yuuri nodded, so Victor continued.

            “I’ve already made some calls about my costumes, and if that for some reason doesn’t pan out, I’ll just wear one of my old costumes. Keep with my theme of surprising the audience,” Victor said with a small smile. “As for a routine, well, I might have been playing with something…” Yuuri just looked at Victor over his glasses.

            “Ok, fine. I have a routine.” Victor started, but Yuuri interrupted him.

            “So I was keeping you from skating,” he said softly.

            “NO!” Victor said forcefully, squeezing Yuuri’s arms. “No, no, no, no. I needed something to stay sharp when we were getting you back into shape, when I first came to Japan, when you wouldn’t let me anywhere near you for anything but training. I had to do something, or I would go crazy. So I did the only thing I knew how to do: I skated. Then I just kept working on it, to keep myself in shape. Of course I’d toyed with the idea of returning to competition. BUT,” Victor reached up to grab Yuuri’s chin gently, making sure Yuuri was looking at him, “I would rather be your coach than a competitor, if that’s the choice it comes down to. Oh Yuuri, I would do anything to be with you, can’t you see that? I had nothing and no one before you. And don’t you dare say five world championships. Because they mean nothing without love.” Victor stepped away, running a hand through his hair. He swiped the back of his hand across his eyes, and Yuuri’s heart dropped into his stomach as he realized that he had made Victor cry twice in as many days. Yuuri lunged toward Victor, wrapping his arms around the older man’s waist, burying his face between Victor’s shoulders. Victor tensed for a moment. Then he wriggled around so he could wrap his arms around Yuuri.

            “I’m sorry, Vitya,” Yuuri whispered against his chest. “I didn’t mean to hurt you again.” Yuuri felt the hot air ruffle his hair as Victor sighed. Yuuri squeezed him tighter.

            “I won’t leave you, Vitya. I promise. We’ll figure everything out.” Yuuri’s anxiety had been momentarily chased away by his concern for Victor.

            “I’ve been left so many times,” Victor said, almost too quietly for Yuuri to hear. Yuuri pulled back just far enough to look at Victor. Letting go of Victor with one hand, Yuuri slipped the hand wearing his engagement ring between their faces.

            “I’m not afraid to fight for what I want anymore,” Yuuri said softly, wiggling his fingers in front of Victor’s face. Victor let out a somewhat strangled chuckle. Pushing up on his toes, Yuuri pressed a light kiss to Victor’s nose.

            “Come on, we need to finish getting ready for the banquet. And the conversation with Yakov where he will probably skin you for your impulsiveness,” Yuuri teased. Victor smiled, though it was still a little shaky. Yuuri patted his cheek.

            “And you know I’ll always listen, when you’re ready to talk. That’s what family is for.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had every intention of making it to the banquet and giving everyone some fluff after the past couple chapters of angst... BUT that didn't quite happen, have a little more angst, and banquet next time!


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The banquet everyone has been waiting for!

As Yuuri sat facing a scowling Yakov, he wondered if maybe some champagne would help this situation. It certainly made last year’s banquet more bearable… or so he imagined, as Yuuri still couldn’t remember any of it. And Victor was already drinking enough for the both of them. The man in question smiled sappily at Yakov.

            “Yakov, I need your permission for Yuuri to skate at our rink in St. Petersburg. I’m his coach, so he needs to be where I am, and _you’re my_ coach, which means we all need to be in St. Petersburg, yes?” Yakov to a moment to sort through that statement, sighing and holding his forehead like dealing with Victor actually physically hurt.

            “Victor, do I need to tell you again that competing and coaching simultaneously is at best insane and at worst impossible?” Yakov asked. Victor waved his hand in airy dismissal.

            “You worry too much, Yakov. Everything is going to be fine!” Victor smiled dazzlingly, as if his charisma would work on the man who had practically raised him. Yuuri shifted uneasily in his seat. Deep down, he thought Yakov was probably right. Yakov pinched the bridge of his nose and made a shooing gesture toward Victor.

            “Go play. Talk to sponsors. I want to talk to your student.” Victor flitted away. Yuuri gulped. What could Yakov want with him? He took Victor from the ice, he was creating all sorts of problems with Victor returning to skating, he was going to create all sorts of issues for a team that was preparing for the Russian Nationals in nine days… Yuuri took a sip from Victor’s abandoned champagne flute. Maybe he could drink enough in the few seconds between Yakov watching Victor leave and the imposing Russian man turning his attention back to Yuuri to not remember _this_ conversation in the morning… Nope, too late. Yuuri did his best not to fidget.

            “Are you doing ok with this?” Yakov asked him, his gruff voice much gentler than Yuuri expected. The younger man thought for a moment, then shrugged.

            “It’s Victor,” he said as if that explained everything. Then, more softly, “He’s almost like a force of nature.”  Yakov snorts.

            “I think the word you’re looking for is _spoiled_ , Katsuki.” But he says it fondly. “I can give you time in the rink, but scheduling is still going to be hell for both of you. Is Victor really set on competing in nine days?” Yakov asks, not because he doubts it, more to see if Yuuri’s managed to talk him out of it yet. But Yuuri nods.

            “He says he has a program ready, that he can wear an old costume if the new ones aren’t finished in time,” Yuuri informs the Russian coach.

            “That boy is going to be the death of me,” Yakov mutters. “Thinks he can just return as a competitor in nine days, thinks he can coach and compete at the same time…” A hard glare pins Yuuri to his seat.

            “Katsuki, I hope you know what you’re doing, letting him stay on as your coach. Not that you’d probably have much luck getting rid of him. Victor is nothing if not persistent once he makes up his mind.”

            “I’m not expecting it to be easy, Mr. Feltsman,” Yuuri said politely, “And I’m very sorry for the trouble we’re causing you. But Victor as my coach is the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I’ll do whatever it takes to make this work for both of our careers!” The fiery, determined Yuuri peaked through the shy demeanor, and Yakov hid a smile.

            “Victor the coach, huh? Are you sure Victor, your fiancé, isn’t the best thing?” Yakov said with an admirably straight face. Yuuri turned red, spluttered a bit, and downed a whole flute of champagne a polite waitress had placed at his elbow to replace Victor’s empty glass. The older man chuckled, just a little.

            “Never repeat this to Vitya, I _will_ deny it, but, somehow you’re good for him. I can’t remember the last time I’d seen him genuinely smile before he got the lunatic idea into his head to be your coach. But hear this: Skater’s hearts are fragile as glass, even the great Victor Nikiforov. You break him, Katsuki, and they will never find your body in the tundra.” The Japanese skater stared at Yakov with wide, horrified eyes, and the older man burst out laughing. He clapped a heavy hand on Yuuri’s shoulder still laughing.

            “Go enjoy yourself, Katsuki. Or try to keep Victor under control. He’s not my problem until tomorrow.” Yakov walked away, still chuckling. Yuuri wasn’t sure how long he sat there, dazed, before Phichit slide into Yakov’s now empty seat.

            “I just got the shovel talk from _Yakov Feltsman_ ,” Yuuri tells his best friend.

            “What?” Phichit asks.

            “The shovel talk,” Yuuri repeats, “the hurt-him-and-they’ll-never-find-the-body talk. From Yakov. About Victor. _The_ Victor Nikiforov.”

            “Congratulations!” Phichit said. “And if it makes you feel better, I gave Victor the shovel talk back in China. He took it rather well.”

            “You did what! We weren’t even dating yet in China!” Yuuri hissed at his best friend.

            “Like that mattered,” Phichit shot back. “He needed to know where things stood, and who knew when you would be back in Japan long enough for Mari to do it?” All the color drained from Yuuri’s face.

            “Do you really think my sister cornered Victor and gave him the shovel talk?” Yuuri asked.

            “For sure!” Phichit said cheerfully. Yuuri groaned and buried his head in his hands. Phichit nudged his own mix drink toward Yuuri.

            “Here. I feel like you might need this more than I do right now. But Yuuri, don’t worry about it. Obviously none of us scared Victor away.”

            “How many people threatened Victor on my behalf?” Yuuri asked, slightly dazed. Phichit shrugged.

            “You’ll probably have to ask him yourself,” Phichit answered cheerfully. Yuuri groaned and rested his head on the table. Phichit poked his cheek.

            “Get up! You just won silver at the Grand Prix! You’re engaged to _the Victor Nikiforov_. Go have some fun! I’m going to see if Christophe can find us a pole again…”

            “Phichit!” Yuuri’s head shot off the table. “You’ll do no such thing! I’m not drunk enough for this,” he muttered. Phichit grinned and pointed to something behind him.

            “You might not be, but your fiancé is getting close!” Yuuri spun around so fast he almost fell out of his chair. Yuuri was too far away to hear what he was saying, but Victor swayed slightly as he spoke. A sappy grin covered his face, and he seemed to be gesturing Yuuri’s direction. Yakov was nowhere to be seen.

            “I guess Yakov meant it when he said he wouldn’t be responsible for Victor tonight,” Yuuri sighed. “Phichit, I need to go deal with this…” he gestured vaguely in Victor’s direction. Phichit waved him away cheerfully.

            “Go have fun with your fiancé! Keep it PG-13 this year!” Yuuri didn’t dignify that with a response, but his face burned bright red.

            He almost ran into Yurio trying escape the group Victor was talking to.

            “Congratulations!” he told the younger skater again, unable to keep a huge grin off his face. Yurio softened, just for a moment, and gave Yuuri a tiny smile back.

            “Thanks, Katsudon,” he said. “You better make it a good fight at Worlds, hear me? I want everyone to know how good I am.” Though his words threatened, his voice and expression showed a trace of fondness the teenager would never admit out loud.

            “Victor and I will both have to stay on our toes,” Yuuri responded. Yurio snorted.

            “Tell the old man to try and keep up,” he growled. A burst of chatter from the group behind them, where Yuuri was pretty sure he heard his name, reminded him of his mission.

            “Speaking of,” he said, “I think I need to go deal with that. See you in St. Petersburg, Yurio!”

            “WAIT, WHAT?” the teen yelled, but Yuuri was already past him.

            Yuuri found Victor happily showing off his ring to anyone who would pay attention to him He had drawn quite a crowd, as he was still _the_ Victor Nikiforov. His face lit up when he saw Yuuri.

            “Yuuri! I was telling everyone how I have the most amazing fiancé ever!” Victor draped himself across Yuuri’s shoulders. Yuuri could feel his face burning. But he politely answered all the questions directed at them, carefully navigating their personal lives, Victor’s return to skating, and his own decision to continue skating. Victor seemed mostly content just to listen to Yuuri talk, a dreamy look on his face. Yuuri finally managed to extricate them from the conversation and steered Victor toward one of the tables scattered around the room. He wanted to figure out where Victor was on the scale of slightly tipsy to I’m-going-to-start-taking-off-my-clothes. He needed to be prepared. He probably should have checked himself on that scale as well, but that didn’t occur to him until it was too late. They almost made it to the table. But the music changed, switching from mellow socializing music to something with a beat, a few steps classier than club music. Victor perked up, peeling himself off Yuuri’s shoulders.

            “Yuuri, let’s dance!” Victor asked, eyes bright with excitement. Yuuri groaned. There was no way he could refuse that face. And somewhere along the line his resolve not to drink had broken, and he really didn’t _want_ to refuse Victor. Yuuri let his fiancé (what a word, fiancé! Is this really his life?) drag him to the clear patch of floor that served as a dance floor. Phichit and Chris were already there, trying to convince Yurio and Otabek to dance. Yurio hid behind the older skater, his face red, muttering words Yakov would probably prefer him not to use in front of sponsors. JJ appeared from somewhere, dragging Isabella with him. Yuuri left Victor, just for a moment, and tapped Chris on the shoulder.

            “So help me Christophe, if a pole appears…” Yuuri left the threat hanging. Christophe just laughed.

            “You’re lucky I promised my coach to be good this year, and not engage in dance-offs with cute, drunk, Japanese men!” Chris said with a cheeky grin. Yuuri rolled his eyes.

            “Dance-offs are fair game, Chris, but not poles!” he shot back. Christophe’s eyes widened as Yuuri sauntered back to Victor.

            “I think you’re a bad influence, Victor,” he muttered, watching Yuuri grab his fiancé by the tie as the opening bars of “Shut Up and Dance with Me” started playing.

            “Remember, Yuuri, PG-13!” Phichit whispered as he whirled past with Mila. Yuuri attempted to smack him, but Phichit was too fast and spun away laughing. Yuuri lost his sense of time between dancing with Victor and a few more glasses of alcohol than he should have let himself have. So he could only guess that it was ridiculously late when someone, Yurio, he thought, backed by the tall, silent presence that was Otabek Altin, growled,

            “Go to bed! You have a gala performance tomorrow, moron.” (It had to be Yurio.)

            Yuuri wasn’t sure who supported who upstairs to their hotel room. But he was pretty sure they both would have fallen without the other to lean on. Was that a metaphor for their relationship? Yuuri wondered, a little too drunk to fully focus on the thought. He’d regret the calories from all those drinks in the morning. Fishing in his pocket, Yuuri managed to dig out the key card and they stumbled into the hotel room. Victor hummed softly, his head resting against Yuuri’s shoulder. His hands wandered to Yuuri’s chest, playing with his buttons, undoing them one by one. Yuuri’s breath caught in his throat and his head felt much clearer from the shock of the gentle contact. Victor straightened to push Yuuri’s dress shirt off his shoulders. Then Victor just stared. Yuuri trembled a little. Swallowing thickly, he stepped closer to Victor and undid the older man’s shirt. Now they were both shirtless and staring. Victor reached out hesitantly, waiting for Yuuri to pull away. Yuuri didn’t pull away, just gave Victor the smallest of nods. Victor traced the stretch marks across Yuuri’s hips and stomach.

            “From… from gaining weight and losing it again,” Yuuri choked out, breathing fast through his nose. He turned his head to the side, refusing to look at Victor. Victor noticed. Keeping one hand on Yuuri’s hip, he cupped Yuuri’s cheek with the other.

            “It’s beautiful because it’s you. You’re beautiful. And I’m going to keep saying it until you believe me,” Victor said, eyes heavy and fierce. “I can think of some other ways to convince you, as well… But not tonight. Not with the gala tomorrow and flying to Russia.” He stepped closer to Yuuri, pressing a light kiss on his forehead. Yuuri snaked his fingers into Victor’s hair, pulling him down into a slow, sleepy kiss. Victor sighed contentedly, wondering again how he managed to get so lucky.

            “Let’s go to bed, love.”  And with Yuuri wrapped around him, (the younger skater insisting it was his turn to be the ‘big spoon’) Victor decided that no gold medal had ever felt this good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hit me up on tumblr!


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri and Victor are officially on their way to Russia!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the slow updates, it's taking me a little longer to plot things out without the show as a guideline! But don't worry, I'm sticking with this fic!

Yuuri and Victor slept most of the almost 6 hour flight from Barcelona to St. Petersburg, still recovering from the activities of the banquet. Yuuri woke up with perhaps an hour left in their flight, but didn’t mind, his head resting on Victor’s shoulder, while Victor laid his head on top of Yuuri’s. It gave Yuuri some time to think about this newest batch of sudden changes. Life was always a surprise around Victor. Yuuri just stopped himself from shaking his head, not wanting to dislodge his sleeping fiancé. (There was that word again. Yuuri still wondered a little bit how this was his life.) Victor Nikiforov was probably the only person in the world who would attempt to return to skating like this. Then again, Victor Nikiforov was probably the only person in the world who might just pull it off. Yuuri still couldn’t believe Yakov had taken the news so well. Then again, Yuuri couldn’t believe _he’d_ taken this whole thing so well. He was currently flying to _Russia,_ instead of back to Japan, to train at the same rink as Victor Nikiforov, with Victor Nikiforov as his coach, and now also his competitor. The hung over and depressed Yuuri from a year ago would never have believed this. Yuuri closed his eyes again. Just in case this was a dream, he didn’t want to wake up.

            Victor dragged a hand through his already mussed silver hair, mind still fuzzy from sleeping on the plane.

            “I’m sorry we have to stay in a hotel,” he muttered, “but I let my apartment go when I left for Japan, and everything that isn’t in Hasetsu is in storage. But it will do for today, until we figure out something better.” Yuuri just smiled softly. He, at least, had expected this, and wouldn’t be surprised if they essentially lived in hotels until the end of the season. There wouldn’t be much time for apartment hunting, let alone making it into a livable space. But that was a conversation for later. Lost in his own thoughts, Yuuri walked right into Victor when the Russian stopped suddenly. Yakov waited for them. Victor stared at his coach with wide eyes.

            “Yakov! Why are you here?”    

            “Because you are my student, and I know full well you have no place to go and will probably check into the first hotel you find, which is nonsense. You’re coming with me. Lilia still has space.”

            “We’re staying with _Lilia_?” Victor gaped. Even he was intimidated by the fierce ballerina, though he would never admit as much to Yurio.

            “Wait, isn’t Yurio staying with Lilia?” he asked. Yakov nodded.

            “So am I,” he rumbled, “so it will be a full house until the end of the season.”  Victor’s mouth opened and closed, like a fish out of water. Yuuri hid his smile behind his hand while surreptitiously snapping a couple pictures. Phichit would be so proud. Yakov turned without another word, and Yuuri tugged on Victor’s sleeve to get him moving again.

            “It won’t be that bad, you know,” he told Victor quietly. “After all, I’ve been living with _my_ coach…” he teased, voice barely above a whisper.

            “Yuuri!” Victor stutters, eyes impossibly wide at Yuuri’s unexpected sass, “It’s not the same at all! Don’t you realize Lilia is going to eat us alive?” Yuuri just chuckles softly.

            “Victor, do you know how many years I trained with Minako? I might as well have lived at her studio, sometimes.”

            “But Lilia isn’t like Minako!” Victor hisses, shooting a quick look at Yakov’s back. “She’s, she’s… very intense,” he finishes lamely, not finding words to accurately convey what he wants to say. Yuuri, to his chagrin, just laughs again.

            “Oh, Victor. Minako was your drinking buddy, but she was my _teacher._ Trust me when I say there is a difference between the two.” He slipped a gloved hand into Victor’s. “It’s very kind of them to take us in. Nicer than living in a hotel until the end of the season.” Victor sighed, and gave Yuuri’s hand a squeeze.

            “You’ll protect me, right Yuuri?” he pouted. Yuuri huffed, shoving Victor lightly with his shoulder.

            “The five-time World champion wants my protection?” he teased.

            “From scary prima ballerinas? Yes,” Victor said with such real conviction that Yuuri couldn’t help laughing at him again. Which made the older man pout a little, but he was kind of adorable when he pouted, so Yuuri couldn’t bring himself to regret teasing Victor.

 

            Lilia greeted them at the door. Yakov introduced him, and Yuuri bowed in a formal greeting. There was something about the imposing Russian woman that Yuuri liked immediately.

            “Thank you for welcoming us into your home, Ms. Baranovskaya,” Yuuri said respectfully. The former prima ballerina studied him intently for long moments before nodding curtly and stepping aside, gesturing for them to step into her home. Yuuri let out a small breath, glad he had passed inspection. He’d have to text Minako about this new development. Lilia ushered them into the dining room, where a meal was waiting. Yurio was slumped in a chair, tapping away on his phone, but he immediately straightened when Lilia stepped into the room. Yuuri smiled to himself at the conditioned response. Training under Minako had been hard, he couldn’t even imagine what training under Lilia would be like. Though since it seemed like they would be staying with the strict Russian woman, he would be able to see it firsthand…

            Victor, with his love of food, animatedly explained every dish, as well as how it had been modified to make it skater-diet appropriate. Yuuri mostly just nodded along and nibbled at what Victor put on his place. Yakov and Lilia were at opposite ends of the table, like parents, and Yurio sat across from Victor and Yuuri, inhaling his food and saying nothing. Yuuri wondered when Yakov had told him they would be staying here too. The teen obviously knew, or there would have been a lot more yelling. After the meal, Lilia showed them to their (separate) rooms. It was still early evening, but Yuuri was exhausted. So he puttered around the unfamiliar room, getting ready for bed. His thoughts swirled dangerously. He’d managed to keep them in check, but now all the distractions were gone. Could he really do this? He’d bombed Nationals last year, failing to qualify for Worlds. Could he do better this time? And Victor… he wanted Victor back on the ice. Returning to competition in only nine days was such a Victor thing to do, and the older skater didn’t seem to be concerned about it at all. But Yuuri could worry enough for the both of them. And once Victor got back to competing, would he really have time to be Yuuri’s coach? Would he still want to? Would he… would he even still want Yuuri? Or would Yuuri someday find Victor’s matching gold ring pressed back in his palm? Yuuri took a deep, shuddering breath, swiping at the tears rebelliously leaking from the corners of his eyes. He trusted Victor. This was just his anxiety talking. But what if… the doubts whispered. A light tapping at the door interrupted his thoughts. Yuuri scrubbed desperately at his eyes, trying to remove the evidence he’d been crying as he moved to open the door.

            “V-Victor!” he stuttered. Victor stepped in the room, into Yuuri’s space, and wrapped his arms tightly around the younger skater, using his foot to nudge the door shut behind him.

            “Shhhh, Yuuri, it’s all right,” he comforted.

            “H-h-how did you know?” Yuuri hiccupped, tears falling freely now as he buried his face in Victor’s chest.

            “You did so well all day, darling, but I know how you worry,” Victor said. “And dealing with sudden changes isn’t your strongest suit, and our lives have been nothing but since the Grand Prix Final. And this is the first time you’ve really been left alone in all this, and,” Victor’s voice trailed off and he pressed a kiss to the top of Yuuri’s head. “And, I know from experience how easy it is for the doubts to get at you when you’re alone.” His voice was barely more than a whisper against Yuuri’s hair. Yuuri squeezed tighter around Victor’s waist, as if the action could hold them both together.

            “Stay with me,” Yuuri said, voice quiet but firm. “Tonight, tomorrow, forever. Stay with me.”  Victor pulled away just enough to look in Yuuri’s eyes, to read the determination there.

            “Is this an official proposal?” he asked with a small smile. “Neither of us actually proposed…”

            “Yes,” Yuuri said without flinching. “Victor, stay with me. Not just for another season. For the rest of our lives. Please. Please stay with me.”

            “Yes,” Victor breathed, pulling Yuuri tight against his chest again. “You’ve brought me so much life, shown me what it means to love, I never want to be without you again. Yes!”  Yuuri shuffles them backwards until they both tumble onto the bed.

            “I love you, you know that?” Victor murmurs.

            “I know,” Yuuri whispers back. “But don’t stop telling me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to check me out on tumblr!


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meet the Russian skate family, Victor's new programs, and lots of fluffiness!

Yuuri woke up in an unfamiliar bed with Victor wrapped around him like a very warm octopus. It took him a moment to remember that he’s in _Russia_ , staying in _Lilia Baranovskaya’s_ house, with his fiancé and coach, Victor freaking Nikiforov. And today he’s going to meet the rest of the Russian skaters at the rink. Yuuri can feel his nerves starting to wake up, so he takes a deep breath to calm them. He’s met or at least seen most of the Russian skaters before, in competition, he reminds himself. Even talked to some of them. This will be ok. Victor mutters in his sleep and pulls Yuuri closer, wrapping his long legs around Yuuri’s hips. Yuuri smiled softly. Too soon they would need to get up and get to the rink, but for another couple minutes he could enjoy being held close by Victor.

            They ate protein bars scrounged out of the bottom of Victor’s suitcase as they walked to the rink, and Yuuri made a mental note to talk to Lilia about using the kitchen. It wouldn’t be as good as his mother’s cooking, of course, but Yuuri was decent in the kitchen. He’s fairly sure Phichit would have died in college, had he been allowed to live on cafeteria food.

            _“But Yuuri, it’s so good!” the Thai skater protested. Yuuri stared at him in horror._

_“Phichit, you are literally wringing the grease out of your breakfast. This is so far from ok!” Yuuri had commandeered the dorm kitchen after that, and cooked for himself and Phichit and anyone else who happened to wander in, for the rest of their college careers._

            “Hey, Katsudon!” Yuri was the first to greet them when they entered the rink. He was already on the ice, but skated over to the edge of the rink. Yuri’s yelling caught the attention of the other skaters. Yuuri tensed slightly as the Russian contingent closed in on them. A red-headed skater excitedly threw her arms around him.

            “You’re Victor’s fiancé! I’m Mila.”

            “Leave him alone, hag!” Yuri growled. “Not everyone wants you glomped onto them!”

            “Jealous?” Mila asked. “I can give you a hug too!” She lunged for the younger skater. Yuri dodged with a yell, taking off across the ice. Mila chased after him. Georgi just shook his head and offered Yuuri a sympathetic smile.

            “They’re always like this,” he informed Yuuri. “You get used to it.” He offered his hand. “Georgi Popovich, though I believe we’ve met.” Yuuri nodded shyly, shaking the Georgi’s hand.

            “Yes, we’ve been in some of the same competitions,” Yuuri said.  Yakov appeared and started yelling at Mila and Yuri. This seemed to have little effect on either of the teenagers. Once Mila and Yuri were sufficiently wrangled and started on their own practice, Yakov turned his attention to Victor. Yuuri knew he should be practicing by now as well, but, he really wanted to see what Victor had been working on, the routine he thought was good enough for competition in nine… no, eight days, now.  Yuuri stayed quiet and hoped that no one would notice him. He noticed Georgi attempting something similar, so they stood together unobtrusively at the edge of the rink.

            “What’s your theme?” Yakov asked as Victor skated in lazy circles to warm up.

            “Life,” Victor said with a small smile. Yuuri drew in a sharp breath, and Georgi gave him a questioning look.

            “It’s… it’s the other half of the journey,” Yuuri explained with a blush. “I’m skating Love, and I guess Victor’s going to skate Life… It’s his story since he came to Hasetsu.”

            “I want to see your free skate first,” Yakov said. Yuuri was glad that thundering look wasn’t directed at him, but it didn’t seem to bother Victor. Victor pulled up a song on his phone, skated to the center of the ice. A nod to Yakov and Andy Grammer’s _Back Home_ echoed across the rink. Yuuri knew his mouth was hanging open, but he couldn’t seem to care. The song was from his Detroit playlist. And Yuuri, a die-hard Victor Nikiforov fan, couldn’t remember the last time he saw Victor skate with such excitement.

            “We’re going to have to step up our game, Yuuri,” Georgi muttered beside him. Yuuri just nodded dumbly. Yakov remained impassive as Victor skated over to pull up his short program music, _Terrified_ by Katharine McPhee. The song was softer, more hesitant, than the first, communicating something new and a little bit scary, but something you could no longer imagine going without, now that you had found it.

            “I’m dying,” Yuuri muttered in Japanese. “This routine literally killed me.”

            “Hmm?” Georgi asked, never taking his eyes off Victor.

            “Sorry,” Yuuri say, in Russian this time. Which really does get Georgi’s attention.

            “You can speak Russian?” he asks in surprise.

            “Only a little,” Yuuri admits. But he has no intention of admitting to anyone that he can read it decently, that he taught himself so that he could read Victor’s interviews in their original language. Months of living with Victor has done wonders for his spoken Russian, though Yuuri is still pretty reluctant to speak it. Yakov started lecturing as soon as Victor finished the routine, and Georgi gave Yuuri a nudge.

            “We better start skating, before they notice,” Georgi warned. Yuuri nodded, and they skated off in opposite directions.

 

 

            “Are you glad?” Yuuri asks Victor later that night, once they’re alone, snuggled together on Lilia’s couch.

            “Hmmm?” Yuuri feels the questioning hum through his back where it’s pressed to Victor’s chest, the Russian’s arms circling loosely around him.

            “Glad to be back on the ice,” Yuuri clarifies.

            “I never left the ice,” Victor says.

            “But I was keeping you from competing,” Yuuri argues, focusing intently on his bent knees, glad he doesn’t have to see Victor’s eyes for this conversation.

            “No.” The word is heavy. “You brought me back to competing, but you weren’t keeping me from it. Yuuri, I’ve lived my whole life to surprise. I reinvent myself every season, because I don’t know who I am, and it’s easier to put on a mask and let the world believe they’re really seeing me. I did it because I didn’t know what else to do. Then I met you. And even drunk off your ass, you knew what you wanted in life. You were so very, very alive, Yuuri. And I wanted that. Desperately.” Yuuri could hear the pain in Victor’s voice. He rubbed Victor’s arms where they wrapped around him, comforting, but remained silent. Victor continued talking.

            “Desperately enough to fly half way across the world to find you again, to read your performance of my routine as an invitation, to pack up my whole life on a chance. And then you wouldn’t let me anywhere near you!”

            “You overwhelmed me!” Yuuri protested. “I didn’t know that drunk Yuuri was that forward!”

            “Drunk Yuuri had your best interests in mind,” Victor laughed, nuzzling Yuuri’s ear. “Then, when you finally let me closer, I asked what you wanted me to be to you. And your answer turned my world on its head. You just wanted me to be Victor. The trouble was, I didn’t really know who Victor was. It’s hard to take off a mask you’ve been wearing for so long,” Victor said softly. Yuuri traced the Russian’s knuckles with his thumb.

            “But I saw you, the real you, and that gave me courage be Victor, the real Victor. And you’re right, skating is part of who I am. So of course I made a program to figure out what I was feeling. I always have. And Yuuri, you and I both know that skaters have a notoriously short shelf life. My body won’t hold up that much longer. I have another season after this, maybe. But that doesn’t mean I’m leaving the ice. After all, you did promise me five World championships,” Victor teased. Yuuri slapped his forearm lightly.

            “I’ll never truly walk away from the sport,” Victor said, his breath soft and warm against Yuuri’s ear. “Most of us don’t. We find different roles, but we never really leave.” Victor leaned forward just enough to bury his face in Yuuri’s neck.

            “Are you reassured, lubov moya?” Yuuri considered this for a moment, carefully considering his response.

            “Yes,” he said finally. “I just couldn’t bear the thought of keeping you away from what you love.”

            “You’re what I love,” Victor murmured, tilting his head just enough to kiss Yuuri’s jaw.

            “I love you too,” Yuuri said, shifting just enough to meet Victor’s lips with his own.  Yuuri pulled back slightly.

            “But that doesn’t mean I’m going to go easy on you on the ice!” Victor laughed, his eyes wide and excited.

            “I wouldn’t want you to, love!” Yuuri grinned, and leaned in to kiss his fiancé again.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a WIP, I want to explore this idea farther. This is my first time writing for Yuri!!! On Ice. This first chapter is a little more angsty than I anticipated, but there will be fluff, because I am such trash for these two! Comments and constructive criticism welcome!


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